


The Book of Elements

by NateChal



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, Assassination Attempt(s), Captivity, Hyrule Castle, Kingdom of Hyrule, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Nudity, Suggestive Themes, Swords & Sorcery, War, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NateChal/pseuds/NateChal
Summary: Three heroes are swept up by destiny to save Hyrule from a terrible fate. Part 1/3.





	The Book of Elements

**Author's Note:**

> My medieval spin on The Legend of Zelda, with magic and sorcery of course. I hope you enjoy reading! Any reviews are always appreciated.

'Halt.'

Yariem stopped in front of the guard's upraised palm.

'Name, miss. If you please.'

She glanced over his armoured shoulder at the torch-lit causeway and the magnificent castle beyond, 'Viacka,' she lied.

The guard ran his finger over a piece of parchment, frowned, and shook his head, 'I'm sorry Lady Viacka, but your name doesn't appear to be on the list.'

'I was a last minute invite. Princess Cytla herself especially requested I attend her party. Please, let me through, I would loathe to upset her,' she pouted, batting her long lashes coquettishly.

He sighed and, seeing the growing line of impatient faces behind her, ushered her in. 'Naroh,' he said to a nearby attendant, 'see this woman in. Bring her before Cylta, if the princess doesn't recognize her then send her on her way.'

Naroh, a pudgy moustached man, bowed and motioned for Yariem to follow.

The warm evening breeze tugged at the hem of her silky, form-fitting dress. The dress was colored to match the reds, pinks, and purples of a sky illuminated by the setting sun. It hugged her curves in all the right places yet didn't constrict her movements in the slightest. Two provocative slits under the arms and one up the right leg allowed for breathability, and would also allow her to draw her concealed blades, two silver short-swords of Zorian make, at a seconds notice.

Below them a moat stretched from the eastern watchtower and ran all the way around the castle, it was an impressive sight. The moat, while obviously serving as the first line of defence against intruders, also regulated the flow of water in and out of the castle.

She entered the grand hall with pensive curiosity. Butlers took coats from guests who had them, smiling politely every time somebody slipped a couple coins their way. The guests then proceeded to the throne room, which was spectacular to say the least. Marble colonnades on either side of the room held up a vaulted ceiling with depictions of great battles mosaicked into the masonry. A grand banquet table dominated the centre of the throne room, atop which lay a mouth watering spread of cooked vegetables, perfectly roasted birds, warm breads, and much more.

A long ocean-blue carpet interlaced with gold ran from the entrance of the room across to the stairs leading to a dais where the throne was located. On the throne sat Princess Cylta Kildea, heiress to the kingdom of Hyrule and now to be crowned queen as of her mother's untimely passing. She was a vision of beauty, with smooth pale skin, curly dark hair that draped her slender form, and equally dark eyes.

Yariem had never cared for royal fashions, but she couldn't help but be impressed, and maybe somewhat jealous, at Cylta's dress. It's color was that of the verdant mosses that blanketed a forest floor; the knee-length overskirt was split up the front and back, made of wool felted into countless convoluted designs. She wore several underskirts to protect modesty and silvery calf-high buskins laced over white stockings.

It was apparent to her that the meal had not begun, as many of the guests were still mingling about or dancing to the melody played by the lutenist. Yariem wasted no time. She began drifting through the crowd toward the dais, keeping close to others dressed in similarly colored clothing so as to blend in. As she walked she noticed more guards posted along the far walls, out of sight to those who weren't paying attention, but close enough to make their presence known. She shifted her weight to avoid a careless passerby and consequently felt the cool steel of the blades strapped to the front of her thighs.

One of the guards must have picked up on her, moving with more urgency now and overtaking her guide, who tried to protest, as she closed the distance between her and Cylta. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him craning his neck to get a better look at her. Then, with the slow deliberate movements of a man who knew what was about to happen, he dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Yariem burst into a headlong dash.

The guard who had spotted her bellowed a warning and drew his sword.

Bedlam erupted in the throne room.

Nearly two dozen armed men seemed to materialize around the princess, and even more began converging on her. She drew her elegantly curved blades and leapt over a chair one of the more courageous partygoers kicked in her way. The first guardsman fell before he even swung his sword. Yariem cut through their ranks at a blinding speed, weaving, parrying, and countering until she was nothing more than a whirlwind of silk and steel.

Despite her skill however, their sheer numbers began slowing her down. She was close enough to Cylta that she could see the princess quivering with fear. Yariem ducked under the reckless swing of a mace and slit the man's throat with a flick of her wrist. The guards began to sense the doom awaiting them if they neared so they fell back, instead forming a circle around her and biding their time.

Time was something Yariem didn't have—there were archers on the dais now. She closed her eyes and retreated deep within herself, feeling the flames of combat burning in her heart. Those flames grew to a sweltering inferno.

The temperature in the room skyrocketed. Yariem loosed the firestorm, throwing her arms out wide and shouting a Word of Power. A great dome of fire appeared around her and expanded outward, scorching all who stood within its deadly radius. Some of the guards managed to dive out of the way with only minor burns but others weren't so lucky, the intense heat had seared their lungs like parchment. 'Stop this. Now!'

She glanced up, startled. Standing in the midst of the charred corpses, with a two-handed war-sword in hand, was a man with short-cropped hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a blue tunic over a brown undershirt and dark trousers.

Yariem wasn't sure how he'd survived the blast. That is until she noticed the faint blue aura around him. 'You are protected by Nayru's Love,' she said breathlessly. 'How?'

'I could ask you the same,' he contested. 'How is it that you wield Din's Fire?'

'None of your business!' She used what remained of her magical reserves to wreath her blades in flame. One powerful leap brought her toe to toe with the mysterious man. They exchanged blows faster than the eye could follow. He was good. Easily as skilled as she if not better, Yariem was hard pressed not to give ground. The warrior feinted left then reversed his momentum so quickly that she was forced to trip over herself or be decapitated. His sword passed mere millimetres above her head, shaving off one of her crimson tresses.

He immediately followed through with a vicious kick to her mid-section. Yariem hit the ground hard but managed to perform a backwards roll that got her back on one knee and gasping for air. Somehow she'd managed to keep her blades in hand.

'Yield,' he commanded. His expression was cold and devoid of emotion, it was like he hadn't exerted himself at all.

'No,' she gritted.

The blue clad warrior held out his hand and articulated a Word of Power. Icy wind surged from his palm and engulfed her. Yariem threw up her blades in an X-block. What little breath she'd recovered was stolen from her lungs and she cried out, having to close her eyes against the excruciatingly cold assault. Din's Fire might have been able to protect her if she hadn't already used it. But she had.

Finally he relented and lowered his hand. Yariem was so cold that she could scarcely form a coherent thought. Violent shivers wracked her body. The skin of her hands and forearms bore a bluish-purple tinge and were utterly useless. She wouldn't have been able to twitch a finger to save her life.

'I gave you a chance, assassin,' he said, walking down the steps towards her. 'Cylta will live. You've failed.' His last statement was uttered with extreme prejudice.

The last thing she saw before everything went dark was a gloved fist.

Chapter One

I

Leoni Kahkariko knelt by the cold stream and splashed water on his face and neck. It was a hot day, hot enough even to call a temporary cessation of hostilities between the Hylian army and what the Hylian soldiers were calling 'The Dark Army', or 'Darklings' for short.

They had appeared from the east nine months ago, without warning or apparent purpose, razing Kakariko Village and storming the eastern plains of Hyrule. The Hylian army had responded in kind, marching from Hyrule Castle to meet the encroaching army on the Eldin Fields in the north and in the Kakariko Gorge to the south.

Leoni never wanted to join on with the Hylian army, nor did he enjoy being associated with them, but for anything threatening to destroy his home he could place his personal feelings aside. Which was why he had abandoned his solitary life and signed on to help defend Hyrule from the invaders.

The first battle had been just west of the ruined Kakariko Village. It was there Leoni had demonstrated his prowess and truly earned himself a place amongst the soldiers, though he suspected that his commanding position was more due to the fact that he wielded Farore's Wind, making him an invaluable messenger and spy.

'There are rumours that the Darklings have taken several battalions across the Eldin Bridge and through the mountains. Some say they will march across the northern plains and flank our troops in Ruin Valley.'

Leoni stood, feeling somewhat refreshed, 'I've heard those rumours too,' he said to the willowy brown-eyed elf named Kemia standing behind him. Today she had opted for a tanned leather corselet over a loose shirt and a knee-length sarong with studded gladiators that wound up her calf. 'It isn't true. I transported myself to the Eldin Bridge when I heard that nonsense to see for myself. We have nothing to worry about, the Darklings can't navigate those mountains worth a damn anyway.'

'You're sure?'

'Positive.'

Kemia allowed her mare to graze at the side of the road while she dismounted to collect some herbs, 'There are times I think humans should have never been allowed to settle in Hyrule,' she said absently. 'There has been trouble ever since.'

Leoni cast a dejected look her way.

She met his eyes and quickly glanced away, 'Right, sorry. I forget sometimes. But you aren't all human. Your mother was an elf."

'Maybe so,' he said. 'But I'll still always be tainted blood in the eyes of full-blooded elves.'

Kemia, knowing his words were true, was unable to offer reasuring words, and so she filled her basket with mint, burdock, and calendula. 

'Why are you collecting herbs?' Leoni asked curiously. We were sent out for reconnaissance, not harvesting.'

'My salves are running low. I can use these herbs to make more.'

He shrugged , 'If you say so.'

Before long the meadow they'd been traversing became a lush forest with pines, poplars, oaks, and sun-scalded birches reaching for the clouds. There didn't seem to be much of a path for elf or Darkling, so they continued following the trail left by their quarry.

'Humans aren't all bad,' Leoni said after awhile.

'Nobody said you were,' said Kemia. 'Even so, humans tend to be loud, obnoxious, temperamental, and clumsy.'

'But they are also capable of great kindness,' she added quickly, realizing that she was being a bit crass. He was a good friend after all, her best friend, and it didn't matter if he had mixed blood or not. 'Humans hold justice in high regard, they don't give up without a fight, and they can love just as fiercely as any elf. They're incredibly stubborn too, and that isn't always a bad thing. Just like you, you're the most headstrong elf I know,' she smiled.

He tried to return her smile but couldn't, 'It does't help that a human tried to assassinate your new queen not long ago.'

Kemia sighed, 'No, it didn't.'

They rode into a glade blanketed in lush greenery. In it's center was a still-smouldering fire pit with flasks and scraps of food scattered about. 'This wasn't us,' said Kemia. 'Hylians clean up after themselves.'

Leoni would have liked to contest her statement, but in this instance he agreed with her. 'Darklings,' he spat.

The pair dismounted. Kemia knelt to study the footprints around the pit while Leoni scanned the tree line. 'They've moved on,' she said, if only to satisfy her friend's vigil. 'There are five, maybe six.'

'I know,' he replied. 'But it hasn't been long since they left.' He glanced up at the sun, it was only just past mid-day. 'Might be that they're heading for Ordon Village.'

'What would they want with a human village?'

'I don't think Darklings pick and choose who's town they sack. It was just a guess anyway, it's too small a group to attack a village.'

'They would never make it past the encampments without being seen.'

'Kakariko Gorge has more than a few hidden passages,' he reminded her, 'some that we may not even know about.'

Kemia swung her leg up over the saddle, 'Let's get going then.'

Leoni followed suit and took point.

'What do you think will happen between humans and elves now that their contempt for each other is worse than ever?' asked Kemia.

'I think both sides know that the Dark Army needs to be dealt before their own problems. After that, I can only hope that some kind of truce can be struck. If I could get my hands on that assassin who tried to kill Cylta, if she isn't already dead, I would kill her myself to show elf-kind that no human agrees with what she sought to do.'

'Well said,' she replied. 'Though perhaps it would be better for a full blooded human to do her in rather than a half-elf, no offense. It might make more of a statement.'

'Perhaps. My point is that it was an act of hatred. Whether or not she was working alone doesn't change that she is human.'

'So what if it was an elf who hired her to mask his crime in racial enmity?'

Leoni shook his head, 'It doesn't matter. In the eyes of your people it's still the fault of a human, and therefore all humans until proven otherwise.'

Any further conversation was cut short by an arrow that narrowly missed Leoni's head and embedded itself in an old oak. He jumped off his horse, drew an arrow, and knocked it before his boots hit the ground. Kemia also dismounted and produced a Kokiri slingshot from her belt. For the thousandth time he cursed her magnanimous vow to never to wield a weapon that could kill, though that wasn't to say she didn't pull her weight.

Leoni poked his head out from behind his horse and nearly took another arrow to the face. The gelding whinnied fearfully. The archer was just up a hill to their left, using the trees as cover. He set his bow down and drew a hunting knife, 'I'll be right back,' he said to Kemia, grinning.

Farore's Wind would have been useless if he didn't know where he was going, but the offending marksman had carelessly shown himself for the briefest instant; that was all he needed.

Leoni whispered a Word of Power and vanished in a green flash. In his mind he pictured the moss-covered boulder behind their enemy and was suddenly standing atop it. He crouched down. The Darkling scout, just as he'd suspected, was poking his head around the tree again, completely oblivious to Leoni's appearance behind him.

Darklings were a repulsive sight. They had bulbous blood-shot eyes, sloping foreheads, greasy black hair, leathery skin, and a toothy underbite. Their jagged armour was made from a material Leoni wasn't familiar with. It was perhaps the only aspect of a Darkling that he even remotely admired, for the armour was nigh impenetrable. Though despite their bellicose nature and their hideous appearance, they weren't stupid creatures.

Three long strides brought him close enough to throw his knife. It sailed through the air and struck the Darkling in the throat as it turned to face him, eyes wide with surprise. It tried to shout a warning but all that escaped its ruined throat before death was a wet gurgle.

Kemia came jogging up the hill towards him. She grimaced when she saw the Darkling. 'Just the one?' she asked.

'Yes, a scout.'

'Come on,' he continued, cleaning his knife on the deceased creature, 'the others must be nearby.'

II

Silence consumed her.

The faintest ray of light, shining through a crack in the wall, illuminated some of her surroundings. She was in a stone room with no discernable exit. A bowl of murky water and a platter of mouldering bread was set beside her, just close enough so that if she leaned against her shackles she could reach it. Her blades had been taken from her and her once beautiful dress was in tatters. Vaguely she recalled a struggle with her captors as they dragged her to this place. At least they had some sense of modesty, someone had fashioned her a ragged bandeau to cover her upper torso. It was wrapped too tightly for comfort but she wasn't complaining.

Yariem tugged against the chains to no avail. Feeling had returned to her hands and wrists, thankfully, but the skin was still somewhat discoloured. The blast of cold had probably frostbitten her arms to the elbows, the use of her limbs would have been lost if not for the obvious magical treatment she'd received. But why? After what she did, who would have bothered to heal her?

'You're awake,' came a man's voice from the darkness.

'Wha...' her mouth was parched. Yariem choked down her nausea and sipped at the water. It tasted dreadful.

'It's been awhile since I've seen a beauty like you.'

'Who are you?' she coughed.

'I'm like you,' said the stranger. 'A criminal destined for execution. This is no ordinary prison. Nobody ever stays here for more than a few days.'

'How long-'

She was wracked by a fit of coughing. 

'-how long have you been here?'

'There is no way to tell. We are below the undercroft. Deeper even than the bowels of the castle. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to this pit of misery.'

'It smells in here,' she noted. 'It smells like piss.'

The stranger chuckled, 'I'm guessing you haven't spent much time in the slums of the city. What did you do? Sleep with the Queen's man?'

'No,' she replied, her voice dripping malice, 'I tried to kill her.'

'Ah, I see. Maybe you aren't the doxy I thought you were after all.'

Yariem didn't bother responding so he continued, 'Did Talon put you in here?'

'Talon?'

'That's what I said. Talon Nirü. Captain of the Royal Guardsmen. He wields ice magic.'

Yariem nodded.

'Don't be too hard on yourself. He descends from a long line of guardians. Warriors who consider combat as the greatest form of art and personal expression. You don't look like you do too badly for yourself, but even so, next to somebody like him you're nothing more than sport.'

'Thanks for the morale boost,' she said sarcastically.

Muffled voices broke the silence. A trap door above her swung wide and she shut her eyes tight against the sudden onslaught of light.

'Die well,' said the man she'd been conversing with.

'We'll see about that,' she said.

'Hey, she's finally come to. Who are you talking to?' a gruff voice asked her.

'Solitary must have broken her already,' chuckled another.

'Don't be so sure,' the third voice was that of Talon Nirü. 'Just because she's the only one in here doesn't mean she's alone. Many have died down there.’

A hook on a crank was lowered down to lift her out. When she was brought up a strong arm released her shackled wrists and caught her as she slumped forward, 'You're lucky, assassin. Your powers are the only reason you're still alive.'

Yariem allowed herself to be carried into the light, not that she had much of a choice. She opened her eyes to slits and saw that it was one of the guard's shoulders she leant on.

'How long?' she managed.

'Four days,' said Talon.

'Do you want us to bind her hands sir?'

'No need,' he replied, ‘she won't be using them for awhile yet, and she'll be joining the spirit down in the pit if she does try anything.’ The statement was a sure threat, and one that Yariem knew she would be wise to heed.

She felt herself being passed into two pairs of calloused hands. Through bleary eyes she saw two older women, maids perhaps, draping her arms around their shoulders.

'Take her to the baths and clean her up,' said Talon. 'I'll post guards outside while you do. Bind her wrists when you are finished and bring her to the throne room. Cylta wants to see her.' And to Yariem he warned, ‘Don’t try to summon Din's Fire once you recover your strength, the binds the guards will be using supress magic.’

Yariem's heart began pounding. Why did the woman she tried to assassinate want to see her? To kill her herself? But then why bother making her look presentable?

'No,' she said, finding her voice again. All eyes turned to her. She took a deep, steadying breath, 'I may be beaten, starved, and weak, but if there is one thing I can still do on my own, it's bathe myself.'

Talon shook his head, 'I trust you about as much as I would trust a Dodongo not to pick my bones clean.'

'Please. Allow me this dignity at least.’

'Fine,' he reluctantly agreed. 'But Hedil and Halde,' he referred to the two elderly women, 'will still be standing by, and the guardsmen will run you through if you so much as twitch the wrong way.'

'Do you have a name, assassin?' he asked before turning to leave.

'Yariem Nuvolhem.'

By the time they reached the baths her vision had returned. Hedil and Halne were still supporting her but not nearly as much as before. It wasn't hard to tell that they were sisters, possibly twins. The two guardsmen took up the rear of the small procession.

They took her into a white marble room with several large tubs set into the floor. Buckets of steaming water had been placed beside the closest tub. An assortment of soaps and shampoos lined the shelves along the walls and large bouquets dominated the four corners of the room, permeating the air with their wonderful fragrance.

Hedil helped her out of her rags while Halne poured the water, which smelled faintly of lavender. If it weren't for the bruises covering her body and the guards outside, she might have forgotten about her troubling dilemma.

Yariem cast the ruined silk aside and slipped out of her underthings. Padding nude across to the tub, she gingerly lowered herself into the water and smiled.

Chapter Two

III

It was dusk before they caught up with the Darkling troop. The creatures had set camp on a small bluff rising from the forest floor. Leoni had the presence of mind to tether their horses a ways back so that the Darklings wouldn't pick up on their scent, now they were crouched down in amongst the ferns and shrubbery at the bottom of the bluff.

'How do you want to do this?' asked Kemia.

Leoni drew an arrow from his quiver, 'Do you think you can sneak up there?'

She snorted, all hubris, 'You really need to ask?'

'Go and distract them then,' he smirked, 'I'll be right behind you.'

Leoni watched her disappear into the foliage. He looked back up to the Darkling camp and counted their numbers again just to be sure. Six.

Kemia signalled her readiness by way of a bird call, so expertly executed that Leoni himself did a double-take. He steeled himself and crept after her.

'What's for supper?' growled one of the Darklings.

'Rabbit,' said another.

'Again?' complained a third. 'We've had rabbit every day this week!'

'Quit your blathering Kath,' retorted the one Leoni assumed to be the cook. To his understanding, Darkling names tended to only be one guttural syllable. Darklings who ranked higher in their army were granted names with two, even three syllables. He had once heard the name of the being leading The Dark Army, after a battle on the foothills of Death Mountain, the bastards name was Rohk Ohk Tar. The Darkling King was not to be underestimated, he had personally slaughtered more Hylians than Leoni dared to consider.

'It'd be nice to have some beef,' said the cook.

'Or human.'

'Don't worry Korg, you'll have your fill of human soon enough.'

Leoni stooped behind a tree on the outskirts of their camp. There was a hastily made fire burning now. Instead of attacking he waited, listening. Their banter might actually yield something useful.

'It'll take the horde weeks to march through those mountains!' Korg, identifiable by his topknot, angrily tossed a log onto the blaze.

'Oh quit your griping,' said the cook.'

They were talking about the mountains south of Kakariko Gorge, he was sure of it. There had been no sign whatsoever of enemy movements in the north recently; clearly the Hylian scouts had been mislead. Leoni listened, hoping to hear more about it, but there was nothing more. He mimicked the hoot of a barn owl and closed his eyes. There was a bright flash and exclamations of surprise as Kemia threw some Deku Nuts, rare seeds containing an incredibly volatile resin that produced a violent flash upon sudden exposure to air, to the ground. Leoni stepped out of hiding with his bow drawn and shot the cook point-blank between the eyes. The cook uttered a strangled cry and collapsed. He dropped his bow and rushed in, managing to slit Korg's throat before he recovered his senses.

Another bird call, this one higher in pitch, signalling Kemia's location. She was somewhere behind him now.

Leoni dropped back into a guarded stance as the remaining four Darklings circled him, snarling and cursing. Four on one was pressing even for him. Farore's Wind would have come in handy but he didn't want to rely on it too often. Agility and finesse were perishable skills that he didn't plan on loosing by resorting to trickery.

The Darkling on his left charged. Leoni jumped back to avoid the arc of its sword and kicked out, catching the Darkling behind its relatively unprotected knee and dropping it like a sack of bricks. He drove his knife into its eye socket as it fell.

Three to go.

He ducked under a cudgel and returned the attack by manoeuvring behind his foe and snapping the creatures neck.

Two left.

A particularly pudgy Darkling barked something incoherent and barrelled towards him. The creature had no discernable weapon except the wicked spikes on its armour. Leoni leapt clear over the Darkling and fell atop its comrade, carving up its face with his knife. The pudgy one roared furiously. Leoni turned to face the Darkling but suddenly it wobbled on unsteady feet. He saw a pebble rolling across the ground and another whizzing through the trees to strike the goblin-kin right in the back of its skull. It staggered towards him; Leoni ended its life with a single stroke.

The fire crackled, sending sparks hissing into the air.

Kemia emerged from the darkness, she held her slingshot. 'We have to tell General Kalvar,' she said.

'No, by the time we warn them and they send reinforcements it will already be too late. We'll reach the village by this time tomorrow if we head south.' He turned to her, 'We have to go to Ordon Village ourselves and prepare them to fight or flee, unless you really want to try and get help.'

Kemia shook her head resolutely, 'I'm with you.'

'I suspected as much,' he said with a wry grin. 'Let's see if there's anything useful around here.'

'We should rest a bit,' she suggested.

His stomach grumbled, and come to think of it he wouldn't mind some shuteye. Despite the situation, they had to maintain themselves too before they could help anyone else. 'Agreed. I'll take first watch.'

IV

Cylta turned the slender Zorian blade over in her hands, admiring its sleek elegance and craftsmanship. The metal seemed to dance with its own inner fire as it reflected the candlelight. She studied the pommel for some time before looking up at Yariem, who sat across from her in the castle's oratory, and frowning.

Talon was also present, standing close enough to Yariem so that if she made a move he would be on her before she could even raise a finger against Cylta.

'I suppose I should begin by asking why you tried to kill me.'

Yariem said nothing.

'Were you hired? Or was this perhaps a solitary act?'

Still nothing.

'Fine', said Cylta. 'Stay silent if you wish, I have ways of finding out...' She stood and began glossing over the tomes lining the shelves of the oratory, some so old that Yariem doubted Cylta herself knew their origin. 'You know, this room used to be used for private worship to the three goddesses that created our world, but there are others as well. Like the goddess Hylia, who still calls Hyrule home.' Cylta glanced back at Yariem. 'Do you know the story, assassin? No? Well I'll tell you then. Ages ago, the three goddesses: Din, Nayru, and Farore, created the world and everything in it. Together they formed the Triforce, a relic of incredible power. When they left this world, they left pieces of themselves behind to remind us of their legacy. Three triangle pendants of the purest gold. One symbolising Din's Power, another symbolising Nayru's Wisdom, and the third: Farore's Courage.'

Cylta paused to give Yariem a chance to interject, all the while studying her closely. Hedil and Halne had given her a pallid dress that laced up in the front. It wasn't much to look at, unlike her own attire. Cylta herself wore a simpler version of the same dress she'd worn at the party, with her dark curls done up in a loose bun and her lips painted blood red.

She didn't expect a response, so after a moment she fell back into her story, 'Those who carry these pendants are gifted with the powers of the pendant's respective goddess. In your case, Yariem,' she said, using her name for the first time, 'Din's Fire.'

'I carry no such pendant.'

'Ah but you do,' Cylta picked up one of Yariem's swords and held it out, pommel first. On the bottom was a golden triangle pendant.

Yariem shrugged, 'There are two, one on each pommel. They're imitations. Fake.'

'One of them is,' said Cylta. She indicated the sword in her hand, 'But this one is real.'

'What? How?'

'You seem genuinely confused,' the queen observed. 'I think it's time you told me where you came by these blades. You aren't a captive right now Yariem, not really anyway, and if you want to continue that way you'll cooperate. Now speak.'

'My father gave me those swords before he...' she trailed off, trying to decide if she really wanted to tell Cylta that he'd gifted the weapons to her before he went overseas and got himself killed.

'Your father gave you these? So they're inherited. And your father received them from his father and so on, right? Then how did he explain that you could wield Din's Fire?'

'He didn't,' she said introspectively. 'One day it just happened. My mother and I were out in Ordon Village picking up a few things. All of a sudden I began smoking, it was all my mother could do not to panic. I didn't know what was going on. Next thing I know I was picking myself up off the ground, the burnt bodies of the townsfolk lay around me and the nearby buildings had become raging pyres. I fled from my home that day. A sage found me some weeks later and taught me to control the fire within.'

'You were carrying the swords at the time?' 

Yariem nodded, trying to choke down those suppressed memories. 

Cylta and Talon exchanged glances.

'So what happens now?' Yariem asked abruptly, blinking away the moisture forming in the corners of her eyes. 'Am I to return to that dingy hole?'

Cylta sat down again, almost appearing sympathetic, and shook her head, 'No. Fact of the matter is, we need your help.'

Yariem looked aghast.

'You'll receive a full pardon,' said Talon. 'It would be like the events of last week never happened. If you refuse, well, I hear the hangman is always looking for work. Or perhaps the garrotter.'

Yariem scowled, any traces of vulnerability shattering like glass, 'It doesn't sound like I have much of a choice.'

'Actually you do,' Cylta corrected. 'I just sincerely hope you make the right one.' The sovereign of Hyrule offered Yariem her weapons.

Yariem hesitated but, after resolving brief internal conflict, accepted the blades. Doing something to anger her captors was not the most expedient course of action, she wasn't prepared to so brazenly throw her life away. 'Do I at least get to know what this is about?' she asked.

'Of course,' Cylta smiled, eyes shining. 'You've probably guessed by now that Talon also holds a pendant. When the three pendants come together they form a single embodiment of the Triforce, melding their points to create a larger triangle with an empty space at its center. Legend has it that when the Triforce is formed it will point the way to the fourth piece of the puzzle, the empty space in the Triforce, Hylia's hidden pendant. A union of these four powers is called the Tetraforce. With the Tetraforce one would be granted god-like power and influence, able to rule Hyrule unimpeded.'

'I need you and Talon to find me the third piece of the Triforce.'

'So you can have this Tetraforce for yourself?'

'If only to end the war with the Darklings,' explained Cylta. 'Then I would lock it away so nobody would ever be able to use it for ill.'

'Do you have any idea where Farore's pendant is?' asked Yariem.

'There is a hunter fighting with the Hylian Army,' began Talon, 'he wields Farore's wind.'

'I'm sending you and Talon to find him. When you do, bring him back here.'

'Why don't you just send an emissary for him?'

'This is far too important to be left to a royal emissary,' replied Cylta. 'It's already late,' she rose to leave, 'be ready to leave in the morning. Oh, Hedil and Halne will be going too. They'll meet you at the front line, they'll be taking an alternate route.'

Yariem's brow furrowed, 'The two old women? Why?'

'Do you know of the Sheikah?'

'Yes,' she replied. 'Elite assassins from Death Mountain. Even Shadow Adepts fear them. They're extinct.'

'Not quite,' said Cylta. 'Hedil and Halne are the last of their kind.'

All thoughts Yariem had entertained of slaughtering the two women earlier were dashed against the rocks. To think she had been at her most vulnerable around them…

'Find something to eat and get some rest,' said Hyrule's queen.

And with that, she was gone.

V

It was said that none but the Zora, a semi-aquatic race of Merfolk, could abide to live in the sub-zero temperatures of the Snowpeak Mountains. But at that moment Arthem would have bet all the gold in Hyrule to the contrary as he watched the blonde slip of a woman, bathed only in firelight, rise from the furs beside him.

Her name was Shaera and she smelt of strawberries and chamomile.

Shaera leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead before tending to the fire, which although had burned down still radiated enough heat to permeate the cabin. She was young, twenty four winters old, six years younger than he but they weren't counting.

'Why do you torment me so?' he asked, the absence of her warmth in the makeshift bed--not that they had slept much--was truly disappointing.

'Because I can,' she simpered. Shaera walked over to the window and opened it to let some cool air in. Arthem could clearly see the effects the morning chill had on her and grinned.

He rose and began pulling on his breeches. The cabin was redolent of wood smoke, as it always was. 'How long can you stay?' he asked her, throwing on a woollen tunic. 'I can make some breakfast if you like.'

'I have to go back to the mill,' she said, offering him a forlorn look.

Arthem walked up to her and ran his fingers through her auburn hair, 'I know.' He wished that she could stay with him, and he would gladly have her, but her parents needed her at the mill just as much as he wanted her to stay. She couldn't just abandon them. It would have been easier if she weren't their only child.

'I can come back in a few days time,' she promised, sounding almost apologetic.

Arthem was about to tell her that he'd hold her to it when a series of howls broke the wintry silence outside. He strode to the window and peered out into the woods. Four wolves, all stark white except for one as black as coal, loped through the cedars towards them.

'Shaera, open the door would you.'

She did as he asked and stepped back as the black wolf entered the cabin. The animal shook the stray flakes of snow off his coat and padded up to Arthem, sitting obediently before him.

'Hello Coal. You have news?' he asked, kneeling and placing a calloused hand on the wolf's flank. He closed his eyes. Coal growled low in its belly as if issuing a challenge. Arthem showed no fear, he didn't even open his eyes.

'The human failed,' he said grimly. 'They have her.'

'Do you think she'll reveal you?'

'No, I placed a curse on her before she left. Her heart will stop if she tries to reveal me.'

'Does she know that?'

'No.'

Shaera crouched down to scratch coal behind the ear. The wolf's tongue lolled out happily. 'What now?' she asked.

Arthem thanked the wolf, who wagged his tail and bounded back into the woods with his pack. He had taken Coal in as a pup, when he would have otherwise died of his wounds, and raised him as he would his own child. In turn, he and Coal had developed a strong bond, strong enough that he could read the wolf's thoughts with little magical assistance. Coal and its pack served him without fail, as well as protecting Shaera while she travelled through the mountains.

'Do you want some company on your way home?' he asked her as she closed the door with a shiver.

A smile curled her lips and spread ear to ear, 'Of course I would.' She went to slip on wheat-brown culottes and a long-sleeve smocked top under a cloak, realizing suddenly that she was still as naked as a jaybird. Not that Arthem minded, such was often their state in his home.

'Give me a half hour. I'm going to Hyrule City to straighten this out.'

Shaera's smile faded, 'What will you do?'

'I hired Yariem because no Hylian assassin would have raised a hand against Cylta, and her skill in the killing arts seemed unparalleled.'

'And you needed a human to kill her,' Shaera added.

'Yes, but obviously I made the wrong choice.'

He looked her straight in the eyes, 'I'm going to end this once and for all.'

Chapter Three

VI

Ordon Village was, had always been, and always would be a village of agriculture. For Leoni, it was the one place he could really call home. For Kemia, it was a new experience. Faron Woods dominated the landscape north of Ordon Village while mesquite-laden plains were laid out to the east. It was the latter route that Leoni had opted for. They'd been travelling for the better part of two days before ascending a hillock looking down onto the remote village.

'This is where you were born?' asked Kemia, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

'Yes, this is where I grew up,' Leoni looked down at the dozens of stone crucks with thatched roofs and stables for any number of horses, cattle, pigs, sheep, chickens, and goats. The surrounding land was peppered with copses of draught tolerant trees, except on the edge of the lone river that flowed through the centre of the village, where cattails and reeds grew along its banks. Some of the villagers were in the process of laying a seine across the river, which was just wide and deep enough to accommodate it. It was a picturesque scene of peace.

Steam rose from a couple of the crucks, marking them as likely blacksmith shops. Nobody else would have had their hearth burning at the height of summer. Leoni took note of these, as he would be paying their owners a visit very soon.

The looks they received as they rode into the village were of curiosity and, though less frequent, uncertainty. Leoni was known by more than a few of the villagers, but Hylians rarely visited and Kemia's appearance was cause for unease amongst the people.

'Leoni!' He suddenly found himself confronted by a brawny man with a balding scalp and stubble on his chin.

'Father, it's been awhile,' said Leoni by way of greeting. Nador, Leoni's father, was Ordon Village's mayor, and good man by any account. He motioned to Kemia, 'This is Kemia. She is a good friend of mine and should be treated as you would treat me.'

Kemia gave him a heart warming smile from behind his back.

Leoni turned to her, 'Kemia, this is my father, he's the village's mayor.'

'Pleased to meet you lass.'

'Likewise,' she said.

'How are things?' asked Leoni after introductions went around.

'Life goes on,' he said. 'The mid-land troubles don't bother us much, so most days are spent tending to the crops or doing other day-to-day things.'

'I'm afraid that's going to change. I don't come bearing good news.'

Nador nodded, 'I didn't think this was one of your regular visits, especially with a fine-looking Hylian in tow,' he threw Kemia a facetious wink to show he meant no offense. She smiled to show him none was taken.

'Can we talk?' asked Leoni.

'Course. Err, would you like something to eat?'

Leoni grinned, 'That sounds like a good idea, thank you.' Who was he to turn down a meal?

Nador brought them to his home, a two-floor cruck with a kitchen, two bedrooms, a hearth, a sizable storage area dedicated mostly to firewood, and a lavatory. It was somewhat cluttered, but then again it was a large house for a widowed man to tend to himself.

'So what's this all about?' he asked when they were seated around the lifeless hearth, munching buttered bread, assorted nuts, and fruit.

'Kemia and I were hunting a patrol of Darklings through the forest a couple days ago. Before we slew them I heard them speak of a horde making their way through the mountains south of Kakariko Gorge, coming here, after which they would head north to attack the Hylian encampments.'

Nador sighed, 'I expected bad news boy, but this is worse.'

'We need to prepare to either fight or flee. There isn't time to call for reinforcements. There will be at least two score of them, maybe more. I can only guess but, I know I wouldn't send too many soldiers away from the front line. And Rohk Tar Kath is no fool. Neither would he. At least we have that.'

'We can't hope to defeat numbers like that,' Leoni's father said despairingly.

Kemia picked up a an apple and polished it on her sleeve, 'The other option is to make for Hyrule City. We can warn the army ahead of time that way too.'

'We humans don't share good relations with elves, especially right now, would we even be accepted into the city?'

'Yes,' said Kemia, 'at worst you would be accepted as refugees, but you would be accepted nonetheless. Queen Cylta wouldn't turn her back to those in need.'

Nador thought for a moment, suddenly he scowled and balled his hands into fists, 'No. This village is everything we have. If we don't at least try to defend it than what does that make us?'

'It can be done,' said Leoni. 'But it won't be easy and you need to prepare for losses, if this is really what you want.’

'I know boy,' said his father. 'I'll call a meeting with the townsfolk. Any able bodied man will take up arms, the elderly and the women too if they want. I won't deny any the chance to defend their homes. Besides, some of our old-folk still have some kick to 'em,' he grinned to try and alleviate the moment.

Leoni shared in his mirth, if only to try and convince himself that a backwater town with maybe a handful of truly capable fighters like his father could overcome a horde of bloodthirsty goblin-kin. 'We could dig wide trenches around the town,' he suggested.

'Huh?' Kemia looked askance.

'Our first line of defence should act as a deterrent, but because we know the Darklings won't be deterred, it should also slow them down. We could dig a long trench around the town with an opening in one or two in strategically sound locations, maybe a man's height in length. Father, do you have tar?'

'Not much. But yes, we do.'

'Good. Then we can fill the trenches with bails of hay and tar,' he explained, 'and when the Darklings are approaching we set it alight, creating a blaze around the town that they won't be able to get through except for the small openings we left to bottle-neck them.'

'Hmm,' said Nador. 'That might just work.'

'It would work in theory,' said Kemia, 'but if we light a fire like that the village will be choked with smoke before we can fire an arrow, not to mention that it will reduce visibility. Do we bottle-neck their ranks just to be suffocated by our own defense?'

“We have to make sure the timber in the trenches is dry, and we can widen the circle as much as we need to too,’ said Leoni. 'That should give us more space to breath.'

'We have a Windmancer,' said Leoni's father. 'I'm sure she could whip up a wind to blow the smoke away.'

'A Windmancer?' the two hunters asked in unison. Leoni's father referred to one of the the sea-faring people who called themselves Windmancers. Often these obtuse wielders of elemental magic would bend the air around them to their wills to fill their sails, or devestate the enemy with buffeting gales.

'That's what I said. She lives here in the village.' They waited for him to elaborate but he merely went back to his meal.

'Remind me to ask you later what a Windmancer is doing so far inland, let alone living here,' Leoni said. He would have liked to finish his own meal but the gravity of the situation had dampened his appetite. Kemia's too, it seemed, as she had only taken one bite of her apple.

'S do you have archers?'

'Of course. We have more than a few hunters living here, we won't be left wanting for skilled bowmen,' Nador replied confidently.

Leoni nodded, 'Then they are second line of defence. The archers can pick off the Darklings as they filter through the blaze.'

Kemia bit her lower lip in thought, 'These roofs are made of thatch. As soon as they get through they'll set fire to the crucks.'

'Let them,' said Nador, 'it's the people we're protecting, not the houses. Homes can be rebuilt, people can't.'

'You had better call that meeting,' Leoni said to his father,' I don't think the horde will get here tonight but they may still be close. Tomorrow night or the next, whenever they come we need to be ready.'

Nador set his empty plate down and stood, 'Then lets get to it.'

VII

The morning was cool despite the stifling temperatures during the day. It was something that would be enjoyed because it wouldn't last long, the sun's rays were already glinting over the horizon.

'Do you have armour?'

Yariem looked up from brushing the horse given to her by the stableman, Talon was busy saddling his own charger, 'Yes,' she answered. 'There's a tavern in the city called Telma's Bar. It's where I was staying before the night of the party. My things will be there if my room hasn't already been ransacked.'

'Alright,' he said. 'We can stop there on the way to the gates.'

'Good,' she said, giving him a half-smile, 'I'm tired of this thing,' she looked down at her drab attire.

Talon seemed not to notice her jab at humour, 'Telma wouldn't just give someone's belongings away without at least trying to find out what happened to them. Though she might have moved your belongings so that the room could be used.'

They set out of the stables at trot, she tried not to admit it but Talon looked handsome atop his horse in his blue tunic and dark trousers, though today he also wore rerebrace plates over his arms and cuisses with greaves to protect his legs. His sheathed war-sword was strapped to his back.

They clip-clopped down the causeway and were suddenly met by cobblestone streets bustling with activity. Yariem was familiar with the city even if she didn't live in it. She hung her proverbial hat in Faron Village, south of Hyrule city, on the shores of Lake Hylia.

Disinterested faces met the pair as they made their way to Telma's Bar. Yariem supposed that she should be thankful they didn't know who she was. The few who did recognize her as the woman who tried to assassinate their queen scowled and shook their heads. There were a surprising number of half-humans going about their business, although they tended to stay clear of Hylians and vice versa.

Almost all of the buildings were made of stone and the few that weren't tended to be herbal and apothecary shops. It was likely that the shops made of stone did more business and the wooden buildings, which probably sold commodities in lesser demand, could not afford the masonry. Yariem heard the bell tower chime and glanced over the rooftops to see its spire in the distance.

'We're here,' said Talon, dismounting and tethering his horse. Yariem brought her attention back to the here-and-now. The stood in front of a stone building with a rustic swing sign over the door reading Telma's Bar in Hylian cursive.

The inside was as rustic as the sign outside. A handful of patrons peppered the tables around the bar, mostly soldiers, some seamen, and others belonging to the common rabble. Yariem glanced around for a moment and then, seeing no recognition on any of their faces, proceeded to the bar. Telma was there, she was a portly Hylian woman, middle-aged, with long cornrows tied back into a ponytail. Two braids hung down from behind her ears, each one adorned with a large silver hoop on its end. She wore a pale green overcoat over a low cut yellow shirt with frilly trimmings. There was a white cat sitting on the bar beside her and mewling impatiently, presumably accosting her for food. Telma shooed it away and continued scrubbing the bar.

'Telma.'

The sly eyed woman didn't look up, 'That's me,' she said.

'I need my things.'

Now her gaze turned upwards; their eyes locked. 'You,' she said. 'Get out of here before I remind my clientele what you did. And to think I accommodated you!'

Talon walked up behind her. A look of confusion crossed her features when she saw the Captain of the Royal Guardsmen standing beside Yariem. 'What are you doing here Talon?' she asked cautiously.

'Do you still have her belongings?' he said in response.

'...yes, I do. What's this all about?'

'We need them,' he implored, 'if you would be so kind.'

The white cat cocked its head and mewled. 'Sure, this way,’ she said.

Telma led them down a flight of stairs leading to the tavern's cellar. Barrels of wine and mead lined the walls, as well as foods that could be stored without spoiling for several days at least. In a dingy corner, thrown in a heap, was a mess of armour, clothing, and miscellaneous possessions.

'Here,' Telma gestured towards Yariem's personal effects.

Yariem didn't respond, in a frustrated manner she brushed past the publican and scooped up her things. She stood with the heap in arm and stared at the two of them, tapping her foot impatiently.

'What?' asked Talon.

'I've got to change,' she said. 'Do you mind?'

'Come on Talon,' Telma turned to leave, 'let's leave the human in peace.'

Yariem frowned, unsure is Telma had shown her a kindness or insulted her. Or both.

When they were gone she freed herself of her bland attire down to her underthings and began putting on a more familiar outfit. Her contusions were fading away now, leaving her alabaster skin smooth and untarnished. She started by pulling on a pair of light trousers, followed by a scale-mail skirt that fell to her knees and leather greaves. Next she slipped on an undershirt before donning a hardened leather corselet that laced up at the side, complete with light-weight but sturdy spaulders. Finally she fitted black bracers embellished with scarlet designs resembling flames to her forearms. Satisfied, she tied her hair back in a ponytail, slipped her shoes back on, and made her way up the stairs to the bar.

'A little on the heavy side for an assassin isn't it?' Talon said when he saw her. It might have been a trick of the light but she could have sworn he almost cracked a smile.

'It's all light,' she replied. 'The scale-mail weighs a bit more, not much more, but it still allows for freedom of movement.'

Talon nodded his approval, a gesture that left her stunned coming from him.

'Thank you Telma,' he said, offering her a polite inclination of his head before turning for the door.

They were out of the city and heading south along the shore of Lake Hylia before she knew it. The beating she'd suffered at the hands of the man riding beside her and her incarceration was a thing of the past. She might have been forever doomed to societal ostracization in and around Hyrule City, but at least she was alive. It could have been worse. Whether or not her failure was known to the white-haired Hylian who'd hired her was unbeknownst to her, not that it mattered anymore, there was nothing he could do to her now.

She smiled.

Against all odds, life was good.

VIII

The skies had become dark and grey as the afternoon hours trickled into the evening. A bleak wind rustled through the upper canopy of the pine forest, promising a heavy overnight snowfall. Arthem knew how to survive in the cold northern wilderness, he had been born in it, but, with Shaera in tow, finding shelter would be preferable. She had her cloak pulled tight around herself, taking care not to show any signs of discomfort even though he knew that all she wanted was a crackling hearth and a warm blanket.

There had been no caravans heading back to Hyrule City from Northvale, and so they were forced to travel by foot. Time was not a commodity either of them wanted to flirt with.

'I can get a fire going if we can find a cave,' said Arthem. It would be no use to start one outside.

'I'd like that,' she shivered.

Arthem glanced up to the waning sun, they had less than an hour before dark. To be caught in the wild north at night was an invitation for death. Of course, he had his crossbow, which would protect them from Ice Keese and other small predators, but he would be hard pressed to defend Shaera against a White Wolfos.

They walked until Shaera was shaking like an aspen leaf in a high breeze. Arthem was growing concerned until, as if in answer to his prayers, he espied at thin line of smoke curling up through the boughs of the trees.

'Shaera, look,' he pointed to the smoke. She followed his finger and managed to crack a smile before breathing out a shaky cone of vapour. Shaera rarely traveled like this on her own. Either she found a caravan to travel with or, if there was none, she waited until there was. When she did travel solo she would sleep with the wolves. It was a two day hike back to Hyrule City, which meant that at least one night had to be spent on the road.

Arthem led them through the woods. Shaera's resolve seemed to strengthen as they neared, she began overtaking him, crashing through the underbrush towards the promise of warmth and perhaps even a hot meal. Which was more than she could hope for in some cave.

It was all he could do to keep up with her as she ascended the steps, dusted with snow and flanked on either side by young hemlocks, to the cottage.

Shaera knocked on the door.

Arthem crested the final step as the door swung wide, revealing an elderly woman glaring at them from under wrinkled brows. 'What do you want?' she demanded.

'Old woman,' he began genially, 'we seek a place to spend the night. Night is nearly upon us, and I fear what may become of my companion if we stay outside.'

The woman gave Shaera a once-over and, seeing her pale of lip and shivering, sighed and stepped aside. 'Come on then,' she bade. 'There is stew over the hearth. It's rabbit and herb.'

'Thank you,' said Arthem, inclining his head, 'we are in your debt.'

The interior was warm and inviting. It smelt of strongly of pine, Arthem glanced to the corner of the one-room dwelling and saw buckets of pitch, and the tools needed to extract it, on a table in the corner. All the furniture in the cottage had been carved from solid wood and draped in furs of all kinds. The wood had been varnished with a mixture of wood turpentine, rosin, and presumably linseed oil.

'I'm keeping my bed though,' said the woman. 'You can have the floor.'

Arthem noticed then that she was human. Curious, why a human would come this far north while most of her kin were southerners. 'That will be fine,' he replied.

Shaera went to sit on a chair by the fire while Arthem hung his coat by the door. 'So what do you call yourselves?' asked the woman.

'My name is Arthem; my warmth-depraved companion is Shaera. Thank you again for offering us shelter, we won't cause any trouble. Can I ask for your name?'

'My name is Aryll. I've called these woods my home for decades.' She served herself some stew and sat across from Shaera.

'Well, go on. Eat,' said Aryll.

The three ate in relative silence, enjoying the stew and the fire. Eventually Aryll retired to her bed while Arthem set out a cot for Shaera and himself. They settled in together, Shaera much warmer than she had been when they first arrived, and fell into a restful sleep.

In his dreams he was back in the mountains, on the highest peak overlooking the Snowpeak Ruins. Coal was at his side, a smudge of darkness against the sea of white. There were women approaching them. They were all around the pair, appearing out of thin air so suddenly that is was impossible to count their numbers.

Coal growled.

The women had no faces, bore no insignia, and had no distinct physical features that could mark from where they hailed. Most of them wore a plain gray robes. The leader stared at Arthem and reached out a hand, her long fingers grasping at the air. 'Go back,' she said in a voice contorted by pain. 'Wake.'

Arthem didn't move. He couldn't.

'Go,' the woman said again, coming nearer. 'Flee, you must not be here.'

Coal loosed a long sorrowful howl.

He threw back the covers and gasped. Fighting to calm his racing heart, he stood and rubbed the grit out of his sleep-laden eyes. Another howl sounded from beyond the trees. It hadn't been just a dream.

Aryll shifted and muttered, 'Damn wolves.'

Arthem dressed, knowing that he probably wouldn't find rest again that night, and stepped outside. Glowing yellow orbs stared at him from the trees. He walked up to the them and was met by Coal. The wolf growled, just like in his dream.

'What? What's wrong?'

Coal glared at the cottage like it was going to come alive and attack. He paced back and forth, clearly agitated, with his hackles standing on end. Arthem tried to get a sense of the animals thoughts but all he got was a mess of agitation and...fear.

His heart skipped a beat, how could he be so stupid?

He rushed back to the cottage and swung the door wide. Aryll was up, she leaned over Shaera, muttering some kind of incantation, before turning to face him.

'Back so soon?' She studied him from across the room with sunken, bloodshot eyes. 'But the wench and I were getting along so well.'

'Be gone demon!'

Aryll's lips peeled back to reveal a multitude of fangs, 'I think not. Your woman is pretty, how can I let a face like hers get away without sucking her dry of her youth?'

Arthem's crossbow lay by the table with the pitch on it, behind Aryll.

The forest demon tittered, 'Lets not waste time, I have much to do.'

She lunged. 

Arthem twisted aside to avoid her razor claws and lashed out with his fist, catching her in the ribs and sending her to the floor. He didn't stick around to see what she did next. A quick glance at Shaera told him that she was still breathing. He dashed over to his weapon, loaded a bolt, and trained his shot on Aryll.

She was gone.

Arthem glanced around the cottage but found no sign of her, 'I know you're still here,' he said. 'Out with you!'

She came screeching from the rafters. He barely had time to level a shot and pull the trigger before she barrelled into him. He kicked out blindly and met with resistance. The demon howled and reeled backwards, a crossbow bolt protruding from her breastbone.

'Well done,' she said. The injury didn't seem to be causing her any pain, he wouldn't be able to kill this abomination by physical means. 'Maybe I'll mount your skull over the hearth and use that fine white hair of yours as a wig.' Arthem knew a few meagre spells, but it wouldn't be enough to destroy her.

She came at him again.

He fell to the ground beside the sleeping Shaera and yanked the thin chain she wore from her neck. Aryll was nearly upon them. With utter conviction he thrust Shaera's pendant out before him. Rays of golden light burst forth from his hand, causing the demon to shriek and fall back.

'Demon,' he said, 'I banish you from this world. Go back to whence you came!' Grasp a handful of hair and held the radiant pendant to her forehead. An ear piercing shriek split the night. Aryll's body began to crumble and flake away, leaving Arthem standing in the middle of the cottage, heart racing.

Shaera stirred as if from a bad dream—or a magically induced slumber.

'Arthem,' she glanced around. 'Where is Aryll?'

'She had to leave,' he said.

'Huh? Why?'

'Never mind that,' he soothed her, crouching down and kissing her cheek. 'Sleep, we have a long day ahead of us.'

She nodded groggily and plopped back down onto the pillow.

Arthem opened his fist and gazed at the golden triangle pendant within. There were still a few hours left in the night, at least. He knew sleep wouldn't come, especially now, so he sat down near the hearth and started into the flames until the first rays of dawn crested the horizon.

END OF PART ONE


End file.
